


You're so Good to Me

by Mraowface



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Praise Kink (Good Omens), Light Bondage, M/M, Massage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 15:14:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21163727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mraowface/pseuds/Mraowface
Summary: Crowley is not quite prepared to admit he has a praise kink.  Aziraphale takes matters into his own hands...





	You're so Good to Me

Crowley flexed his muscles happily against his restraints. He wasn't sure where this was going, but anything involving being lashed spreadeagled to the bed wearing a ballgag was already off to a promising start.

His mind flicked through the possibilities, keeping his eyes shut to fully enjoy the suspense. It must be something painful, or why else would Aziraphale gag him? Maybe he'd got round to replacing that bamboo cane at last... Crowley had got in a lot of trouble for breaking that one. Or maybe that weird thing with the violet wand? Probably not that: Crowley hadn't really been sure if he'd liked it, so he doubted Aziraphale would try it on him while he was in such a helpless position. Wax play? He did get told off for wriggling last time...

Crowley's thoughts were interrupted as Aziraphale made a noise from across the room. It sounded like he was rooting around for something – but not in the box of sex toys he kept under the bed... Chest of drawers maybe? Crowley wasn't sure what this meant, but he kept his eyes shut anyway. Surprises were fun.

Footsteps coming across to the bed. Then the feel of the mattress dipping, and Crowley was exhaling sharply as Aziraphale straddled his legs. Next came the sound of a cap being flicked open on a bottle.

And then Aziraphale was smoothing oiled hands down his demon's ribcage, and murmuring that “You're so _good_ to me, Crowley...”

Crowley's eyes snapped open. He'd had a horrible realisation. Aziraphale. He was... This was _not_ ok. He thought back to twenty minutes earlier. The angel had held up the gag, and asked “Do you trust me?” Crowley had opened his mouth willingly in response, and when all the straps had been buckled, Aziraphale had kissed his forehead and said “Good boy.”

_Fuck._ When had he become so fucking _obedient?_ Aziraphale was stroking his stomach, tracing down his ribs, touching him so damn _gently,_ and all the while crooning to him about how beautiful he was, how perfect.

_This was not ok._

Crowley felt like an absolute sucker. His angel had reeled him in with the cuffs and the ballgag, and now that he was helpless, the bastard was giving him a _fucking_ massage.

He tried in vain to spit the gag out. Except, of course, that absolute _demon_ of an angel had given _him_ the task of finding a new one, one that could cope with the snakey ability to unhinge one's jaw. So he was fully strapped in, with a cage of leather running all round his head. _Shit._

Aziraphale had moved on to recounting seemingly every good deed that Crowley had ever done, starting with averting the apocalypse, and rattling right through every comfort he'd bestowed on that _twat_ of an angel, and plunging straight into every single time he'd secretly blessed someone, thinking no-one would ever know. Mrs Moreno and the immigration papers. That scruffy kid who'd looked like he needed a friend. _Every single bakery_ he'd kept from closing down.

And all the while Aziraphale was massaging him with sweet-smelling oils, telling him how much he was loved, how much he was appreciated. This was _intolerable._ Crowley was hating every minute of it, with every fibre of his being. Except that now Aziraphale had shifted backwards, and was stroking the demon's very much erect cock. Why in _cocksucking heaven_ did he have a hard on?

Crowley mentally lacerated his crotch. This was _not_ a turn on, and his whole body should know that. He drooled angrily, tugging at his restraints. _Shit._

Aziraphale had no right to be wanking him off so lovingly. And his treacherous cock had no fucking right whatsoever to be lapping up the attention like that. Now the angel was telling him about his gorgeous eyes, how much he loved to gaze into them and feel the love pour out of them...

Crowley tried to make his eyes shoot pure venom. It did not appear to be working.

It was getting harder to think straight. Aziraphale was stroking him so gently, so softly, it was hard to focus... He tried to fight off the feelings of warmth and love, but it was like grabbing handfuls of smoke.

Just one press of Aziraphale's lips to his penis, and Crowley came. It felt intense, but also like he was floating on clouds. Then Aziraphale was finally releasing him from the restraints. He tried to swear at his angel, to say something truly vindictive, but nothing came out. Instead he was curling into his angel's soft chest, and Aziraphale was stroking his hair, still murmuring to him that he was such a good boy, and he was so very proud of him.

Eyes leaking, Crowley stayed pressed against his angel's skin, and tried to ignore how truly loved he felt.

**Author's Note:**

> Valvopus: you're so good to me...


End file.
